


Proof for Jules

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Vince's Princess ♥ [14]
Category: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Foot Massage, home video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18509203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: you and your boyfriend Vincent are lounging on the couch together when he points his camera at you and starts firing questions.





	Proof for Jules

**Author's Note:**

> a short’un i know, but it was just a little idea i had a while back and wanted to make into a mini fic!! thought it’d be funny and vince is a stupid daddy ♥

“Hey honey,” Vincent says, pointing his clunky home video camera at you.

You realise what he’s doing and hide behind your hands. “Vince! I look like a fucking rat, don’t film me!” 

“Shut up, baby, I’m makin’ memories here,” he says. You give him a dirty look and cross your arms, focusing on the TV, but he continues. “So what did I just do, honeypie?”

You roll your eyes, not taking them off of the TV. “Gave me a foot massage.”

“Care to answer my queries on your experience?”

You turn your head to look at him. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like someone that’s never had a normal conversation with another person before? You sound like a creep,” you smirk.

He sighs. “Baby, just tell me if you liked it or not.”

“It was fine, now stop filming me.”

“What would you rate it outta ten?”

“Why the fuck are you even asking?”

“C’mon, just gimme a number” he whines. “Hurry up, my arm’s achin’.”

“If I do will you take me to dinner tomorrow?”

“Sure, lemondrop.”

“Fine. Nine out of ten.”

Looking offended, Vincent lowers the camera. “Why only nine?” he complains, and you shrug at him. “Why don’t ya just give me ten?”

“Don’t ask for my opinion then bitch at me about it when I give it to you, asshole!” you huff, cuddling up to him and looking back at the TV. He points the camera back at you, but you push it back down stubbornly. “Do you have a foot fetish or something?”

“No!” he protests. “Fine, I had a bet with Jules and I need proof that I gave you a foot massage.”

“Why the fuck-- a bet?”

“We were arguin’ about who’s better at it.”

Delighted at such an opportunity, you think for a second. “I’ll give you ten out of ten if you take me to Vegas.”

“Deal,” he smirks. “Such a foxy girl, aren’t ya?”

“I try,” you purr, pecking him on the lips. “Alright, you can film me now.”

 Your great dork of a boyfriend squints, pointing the camera at you once more. “Okay-- three, two, one, action!”


End file.
